


deductibles, claims, and other facts of love

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Fluff, Getting Together, Interns & Internships, M/M, i sure do love these disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14150385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: Look, Mitch Marner is many things—charming, hilarious (if you ask anyone but Stromer), handsome (if you ask anyone but Marty), kind—but cut out for office work, he is not.





	deductibles, claims, and other facts of love

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU FOUND THIS THROUGH GOOGLING, KNOW ANYONE MENTIONED IN THIS STORY PERSONALLY, OR ARE MENTIONED YOURSELF: please, please click away. This is a work of fiction and nothing written in this story is true. Any accurate information used in this story is publicly available information about public figures, the rest is made up, 100%.
> 
> thanks to ali, ang, ash, and rachel for the beta work. based off [this commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3iMtK0QXwg).

Look, Mitch Marner is many things—charming, hilarious (if you ask anyone but Stromer), handsome (if you ask anyone but Marty), kind—but cut out for office work, he is not. 

It’s not his fault. He’s just—kinda spacey, and his elbows just kind of go where they want, and he has to carry so much shit around that he’s pretty much a walking pencil-cup-knocker-over. 

It’s not quite bad enough to get him fired, but it is bad enough that he’s been switched off of office assistant duty, customer service, and work in the service centre, so basically, he’s on thin fucking ice, and if he wants the college credit and shitty stipend that got him here in the first place, he’s gotta clean up his act— 

And the dirt that is currently on the ground, because he’s just knocked over the flowerpot that had been, for whatever reason, resting on top of the filing cabinet. 

Awesome. 

He grabs the closest thing to him that looks like a broom, except it’s not a broom, it’s a fucking hockey stick, because nothing in this office makes sense. So Mitch just stands there, piling dirt up and not really making much progress in terms of cleaning up, mildly panicked that this is the last straw and that he’s gonna have to go home and explain to his mom that he got fired over a fucking flower pot— 

“That’s not what that’s for,” a voice says, and Mitch looks up to see Auston leaning against a wall, probably trying for smooth and very aware that it’s not coming across. He’s not actually sure why he’s down here, considering IT is located three floors up, but he’s not gonna complain.

“It’s better than nothing,” Mitch says, even though it probably isn’t, actually. 

“Do you want me to, like, find a custodian?” 

“Nah, don’t wanna bother them,” Mitch says. “It’s my fault.”

“I mean, accidents happen,” Auston says. “Besides, there’s shattered pottery. They’ll probably wanna mop.” 

“Right, yeah,” Mitch says. “Sorry, I just—it’s been a weird day.” 

“Heard you got reassigned again,” Auston says, nodding sympathetically. 

“Yeah, they’re trying me in advertising,” Mitch says. “Hopefully I’m good at it. Or, like, hopefully I suck less.” 

“You didn’t suck in customer service,” Auston says. 

“I mean, everyone liked me,” Mitch says. “Apparently I was ‘too chatty’ and ‘wasting company time.’”

Auston cracks a smile. “Of course you were.” 

“What? They told me to be friendly and approachable, I did that, and they fired me,” Mitch says. 

“Reassigned,” Auston corrects. “Look, I’m sure you’ll find your niche somewhere. Maybe advertising will be a good fit.” 

“Maybe,” Mitch says, even though he kinda doubts it. He’s met the advertising guys, and Patty seems chill enough, but he’s also watched enough _ Mad Men  _ (which had been one episode, at Marty’s behest) that he’s wary about the industry as a whole. Not that doing advertising for a fairly innocuous insurance agency is the same as going full-on Don Draper, but still. 

“I mean, it’ll be fine,” Auston says. “Find your groove, keep your head down, then in August, take the money and run.” 

“More like take the credits and run,” Mitch says. “Whatever, hopefully someone here likes me enough to write me a letter of rec at the end of it.” 

“Everyone likes you,” Auston says. “Otherwise you’d have been fired already.” 

“Fuck you,” Mitch says, but he’s smiling, probably a little too fond for the words to have any bite behind them. “I don’t know why I talk to you, you’re not nice or helpful.” 

“I’m plenty helpful,” Auston says. “I’m gonna get you a broom, eventually.” 

“Eventually,” Mitch says pointedly, but considering he’s more or less given up on trying to corral the dirt into a neat pile with a hockey stick, he’s not really in any position to criticize. 

“I’ll go right now,” Auston says. “Be back in a second.” 

“I’ll be here, surrounded by dirt,” Mitch says, and he maybe leans on the hockey stick and watches Auston as he walks away. 

Whatever. Auston’s fun to look at, even when he’s wearing strange patterned pants that are definitely too hip for an IT intern. They fit well, though, so Mitch isn’t gonna go out of his way to criticize them. 

“You know,” Auston says, turning around, and Mitch straightens up, hoping he hasn’t been caught staring. “Advertising works on the same floor as tech support.” 

“Really,” Mitch says.

“So if you stick around there, we’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other.” 

Suddenly, Mitch feels very determined to not get kicked off the advertising team. 

“Is this your way of telling me not to break your computers?” Mitch asks. “Because I can’t make any promises.” 

Auston gives him a smile, but doesn’t meet Mitch’s eye. “Well, try not to.”

***

Mitch has always known of Auston Matthews, because they have about a bajillion friends in common, but they hadn’t actually known each other until this summer, and honestly, Mitch has been missing out. 

Auston’s pretty great, all things considered. He buys Mitch coffee every time Mitch gives him a lift, is a good sport about Mitch chirping him for his weird taste in music, and seems to think Mitch is really funny, which is weird, considering Mitch had gone into this summer convinced that Auston thought he was the most annoying human being on the face of the planet. It’s not that Auston had ever been rude, or anything, but Mitch has always gotten a too-cool-for-this vibe off of him, and it’s not often that his first impressions are wrong. 

But, like, everyone makes mistakes sometimes, and Mitch is a big enough person to know when to reevaluate. 

It’s not like Auston doesn’t still do the whole hip and mysterious act, but he at least seems to be aware it’s an act. He’s really just a dork, the kind who likes bad puns and invests way too much in ironic clothing, and for all he acts put-together, Mitch knows the truth. He tries to act unamused about everything, but Mitch can get him to crack pretty easily, and once he does, he’ll laugh the loudest and the longest, this awesome, genuine thing that made Mitch’s heart skip a beat the first time he saw it, because he hadn’t been expecting something so bright and honest. 

So, of course Mitch likes Auston, because Auston likes him, and is funny and easygoing and maybe the best part of Mitch’s day, even though it’s kind of hard to breathe if Mitch looks at him for too long, and even if Mitch will sit in his car after Auston’s said goodbye, wondering why their conversation feels unfinished.

Those things are kind of intense, and very confusing, but they’re never, ever bad, and that’s the important part, Mitch thinks. 

***

“Yo,” Mitch says, walking into the IT room a week later. “Is Matts around?”

Zach shakes his head. “He’s dealing with a problem up in sales.” 

“Again?” 

Zach shrugs. “Guess they’ve got a lot of problems.” 

“Still,” Mitch says. “Aren’t you guys supposed to split the work on that kind of stuff?” 

“We flip a coin,” Zach says. “He just keeps getting unlucky.” 

“Damn, I wanted to celebrate a week without reassignment,” Mitch says. “I haven't broken anything yet.” 

“Really?” Zach says. “I’m a little disappointed, it’s what you’re famous for.” 

“I’ve gotten better,” Mitch says. “These offices are just small, I needed time to adjust.” 

“You’re also small,” Zach points out.

“Whatever,” Mitch says. “Maybe I’m just clumsy. I feel like that’s part of my charm, y’know?” 

“You’d have to ask Auston about that one,” Zach says, turning back to his computer, and Mitch frowns. 

“What does that mean?” he asks. His stomach does something really weird at the thought of Auston talking about him behind his back, but just as Zach is opening his mouth to respond, Auston walks in. 

“Hyms, can you—” he starts, but then he seems to notice Mitch, and his back straightens. “Oh, hey, Marns.” 

“Hi,” Mitch says. “Everything good up in sales?” 

“Sales?” Auston asks. 

“That’s where Zachy told me you were,” Mitch says. 

“Right,” Auston says, and then he turns to Zach. “Dude, can you please take this one.” 

“Why?” 

“It’s Willy,” Auston says. “He wants your help, not mine.” 

“Will’s just shit at technology.” 

“You’re more patient than I am, and I’ve only had one cup of coffee today,” Auston says. “Please?”  

“Fine,” Zach says, sighing, but he gets up and accepts Mitch’s fist bump on his way out. 

Which leaves Mitch alone with Auston and several very breakable desktop computers, and, like, Mitch is probably not gonna knock anything over, but he really doesn’t wanna risk it, so he keeps his hands glued to his sides. 

“So,” Auston says. “Were you, uh, here to talk to Zach?” 

“Oh, no. I was looking for you,” Mitch says, blushing. “Just wanted to celebrate the fact that it’s been a week and I’m not even close to being assigned out of advertising.” It seems silly, assuming that Auston would even care, now that he’s here and saying it out loud and clearly interrupting Auston’s job—one that he’s actually good at, unlike Mitch, who’s only barely not-bad—but Auston smiles, like this is actually something worth celebrating, and Mitch’s cheeks are still red, but he can’t help but grin back at him. 

“That’s awesome, dude,” Auston says, and he sounds like he means it, too. “See? Told you this could work out.” 

Mitch shrugs. “It’s really not a big deal.” 

“No, it definitely is,” Auston says. “Brownie says you’re kind of killing it.” 

“Actually?” 

“Yeah,” Auston says. “Or at least, that’s what he told Zach.” 

“You guys gossip a lot more than other departments,” Mitch says. 

“It’s because we bug your computers,” Auston says. “Seriously, c’mon, we should actually celebrate.” 

“Yeah?” Mitch says. “What were you thinking?” 

“Think you could get away with a full hour for lunch?” Auston asks. 

“Probably,” Mitch says. “Patty’s pretty chill about that stuff.” 

“Let’s go out to lunch,” Auston says. “Somewhere nice. My treat.” 

It sends a jolt through Mitch, which is fucking dumb, because it’s just lunch with a friend, but also—Auston’s blushing, looking at the ground, his hands clenched in determination, and Mitch isn’t really sure what this is, but he’s kind of excited about what it could be. 

“I like the sound of that plan,” Mitch says. “Is noon good for you?” 

“Yeah,” Auston says, a little fast. “Noon’s perfect.” 

Mitch grins. “Noon it is, then.”

***

An hour for lunch is forever compared to the thirty minutes they usually get, but it still feels like too little time, especially because it’s gone by so fucking fast. 

It’s like. Mitch knows Auston pretty well, but they’re in that sweet spot of a friendship where they still have new stories to tell each other, and as it turns out, IT really is a hotbed of gossip. 

“Okay, but do you think he’s totally making it up?” Mitch asks. 

“Well, no,” Auston says. “He has actual questions, but like, he doesn’t want me to be the one answering them—like, if you could come along you’d see. It’s totally just because he wants to talk to Hyms.” 

“Why doesn’t Hyms believe you?” 

“He doesn’t think Willy would do something like that,” Auston says. “Which is wrong. Willy’s dramatic as fuck.” 

“I know,” Mitch says. “Did you know he was gonna be a theater major?”  

“No, he was gonna be a  _ musical  _ theater major,” Auston corrects. “I once asked him if he liked cats, and he went on for, like, twenty minutes, because he thought I was asking about some play he loves, or hates, or something.” 

“Of course he did,” Mitch says. “So, like, do you think Zach’s…” he does a hand gesture. “Y’know.” 

Auston takes a sip of water, nodding. “Oh, yeah, totally.” 

“Then why can’t they just work this shit out?” Mitch says. 

“‘cause they’re both idiots?” Auston suggests. “I dunno, I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually.” 

“It’s so dumb,” Mitch says. “Like, if two people like each other, I just feel like it’s not that hard.” 

“Well, okay, in their defense, confessing your feelings isn’t exactly easy,” Auston says. 

“Sure, but it’s probably easier than coming up with a billion excuses to call IT,” Mitch says. 

Auston furrows his brow. “Is it, though?” 

“I mean,” Mitch says, “it’s a different kind of difficult, but I feel like—like, yes. Crushes are awful and miserable and I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy—” 

“You speaking from experience?” Auston says, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. 

“Oh, buddy, I fall head-over-heels in love with strangers, like, once a week, minimum.” Mitch says. “But the thing is, when you like someone—like, really like them—it’s usually because they make you happy, right? So the options are keep being happy and miserable at the same time, or try being happier, so it’s a little bit of a win-win, if you play your cards right.” 

“And if they don’t feel the same way?” Auston says, like it’s a challenge. 

“Again, crushes fucking suck,” Mitch says. “So you’re already fucking dying on the inside as soon as you start to feel anything, so it’s not like it’s gonna get any worse.” 

“Being turned down is so much worse,” Auston says. “At least when you have a crush, there’s, like, hope.” 

“Sure, but the longer you have a crush, the chance of it going away decreases,” Mitch says. “Once you’ve been turned down, it’s all uphill from there, so there’s even more hope than there was before.” 

“Spoken like a true econ major,” Auston says. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a very efficient way of putting it,” Auston says. “And I mean, it’s not wrong, but I’m also guessing you haven’t been turned down that much.” 

“Well, I doubt you have either,” Mitch says. 

“And what are you basing that assumption on?” Auston asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Uh, you’re 6’3”, play baseball, and a Comp Sci major, which means you’re basically a six figure salary in an athlete’s body.” 

“I’m glad you appreciate me for the things that really matter in a person,” Auston deadpans. 

“No, don’t get me wrong,” Mitch says. “I’m here for your weird clothing choices, and because you laugh at my jokes, but I bet that when you ask people out, they tend to say yes.” 

Auston shrugs. “I mean, last time I seriously fell for someone, it didn’t end well.” 

“Oh,” Mitch says, reeling in the debate for the time being. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine, it was a year ago, but he liked someone else.” 

“That’s never fun,” Mitch says. 

“I got over it,” Auston says. “They were both my friends, but I’m just saying—it was awful being into him before they got together, and it was really awful when they finally did.” 

“But the closure came, eventually?” 

“Yeah,” Auston says. “As much as it ever does, I guess.” 

Mitch thinks about that for a second, and then, “I did debate in high school.” 

“Okay?” Auston says. 

“Which is why I was talking about—like, feelings, and stuff, the way I was. I don’t think I actually believe most of that.” 

“What parts do you believe?” Auston asks. 

“I mean,” Mitch says, “it’s a big risk to tell someone you’re into them, I guess, but it’s also—it’s definitely worth doing more often than people actually do it. I guess, if you’re upfront and honest, things are more likely to work for you.”   

“Is that what you tell them over in advertising?”

“Nah,” Mitch says. “But if the whole finance thing doesn’t work out, my backup plan is to become a life coach.” 

Auston chuckles. “You’d probably actually be pretty good at that. Let me know if you do, I’ll give Willy your number.” 

“He’d be the first person I hit up for business,” Mitch says. “I would love to be paid to tell him how to make better life choices.” 

“Wouldn’t we all,” Auston says. “At least he didn’t end up majoring in musical theater.” 

“As his friend, I agree,” Mitch says. “Though as his life coach, I would, of course, encourage him to pursue his dreams.” 

“Diplomatic,” Auston says. “Well, alright, we should probably get going.” 

Mitch looks at his watch, and finds that it’s already five minutes past when he’d wanted to leave. “Oh, shit, yeah.”

“Sorry,” Auston says. “If you need to go, you can head out.”

“No, no, it’s not a big deal,” Mitch says. “Let’s just get the check.” 

“You sure?” Auston says. 

And, like, Mitch doesn’t want to get fired, but it’s also only a few minutes, and Patty had seemed pretty lax about Mitch taking a long lunch anyway, and it’s not like they have super important work to get back to as interns. 

Plus, Mitch is enjoying spending time with Auston and he doesn’t want to cut that short, even if it’s only for the sake of the few minutes it’ll take to walk back to the office. 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “No rush.” 

Auston gives him a shy smile, and then they get the check.

The weather is nice, enough that Mitch really hates that his job requires him being inside all day, but he savors the few minutes of fresh air they have as they make their way back to work. 

The company makes it that much better, if he’s being honest. 

“So,” Mitch says, stopping outside the entrance to the building, “uh, thanks for lunch.” 

“Congrats again on not being fired,” Auston says. 

“Reassigned,” Mitch corrects, and they both laugh, matching nervous giggles, and Mitch’s heart is racing, because all of this—maybe Auston hadn’t said it in so many words, but Mitch can tell that this isn’t just a normal lunch. The way Auston’s looking at him—has been looking at him, for a while—Mitch is cautious, but it’s promising. 

“Well,” Mitch says, and then, without really thinking, he starts to lean in— 

And then Auston leans back, and Mitch’s entire life falls apart. 

Like. He’s really not trying to be dramatic here, but that’s the only way he can describe the sheer mortificiation. His stomach drops, and his breathing gets short, and he feels like he’s gonna be sick, a little, and it’s just—really and truly an unpleasant experience, and suddenly, he realizes that he had been very wrong before. 

Getting turned down? Maybe the worst feeling in the entire fucking universe, beyond compare, really. 

“I’m sorry,” Mitch says, leaning away. “I’m so sorry.” 

Auston doesn’t even say anything, just stares at Mitch, his eyes so wide and scared that Mitch has to look away. 

“I’m gonna go back in,” Mitch says. “Uh, I’ll—yeah.” 

Before he has to spend any more time in the presence of the man who maybe just broke his whole-ass heart, Mitch turns on his heel and runs, booking it up seven flights of stairs to avoid an awkward elevator ride. 

He’s still ten minutes later than he said he’d be, but Patty doesn’t seem to notice, so Mitch just throws himself into his work for the rest of the afternoon, and if, every time his computer freezes, Mitch’s heart fills with dread at the thought of having to call IT— 

Well. He doesn’t actually end up having to call IT at any point, so it’s fine, really. 

***

So, it’s not like Mitch and Auston talk every day, but still, his absence is felt sharply. 

Mitch is well aware that he’s being dramatic, but it’s been almost 22 hours since they last spoke, and Mitch hadn’t driven Auston home yesterday, or picked him up this morning, or bumped into him in the hallway, or gotten any texts or DMs or anything— 

And, okay, maybe they do talk kind of a lot, which means that Mitch managed to ruin a very nice afternoon and a really great and important friendship in one fell swoop. 

He’s very good at fucking up, apparently. 

***

He makes eye contact with Auston exactly once, while Mitch is exiting the bathroom as Auston walks past, and really, he just—there’s only so much weirdness and sadness he can take. 

So, he figures, he can take it right to the top.

“Patty, please. Fire me,” Mitch says, bursting into his office.

Patty just laughs. “Yeah, not doing that.” 

“I’m an intern. I’m disposable. Come on, please?” 

Patty looks up. “Is there something wrong with the department? Do you not like the work you’re being given?” 

“No, the department’s great,” Mitch says. 

“Then why do you want me to fire you?” Patty asks. 

“Because I can’t work on this floor anymore,” Mitch says. “Please, I’m begging you.” 

“Mitchy, I—you’re one of the best interns on this team,” Patty says. 

“Don’t try to sweet talk me out of this,” Mitch says. 

“I’m not trying to sweet talk anyone out of anything,” Patty says. “You’re really good.” 

“There’s no way—” Mitch says, except he makes a gesture, feels his hand connect with the Sharks bobblehead sitting on the edge of the desk, and watches it fall to the ground, the head falling off. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mitch says, picking it up. “But—see? This is what I do. I break shit. That’s why no other department wanted me.” 

“Mitch,” Patty says, holding out his hands, and Mitch hands over the disembodied bobblehead and the body accompanying it. “You were reassigned because you seemed bored in every other department, and everyone thought your skills could be used better elsewhere.” 

“Okay, but I break a lot of things,” Mitch says. 

“Well, this is the first time you’ve broken something of mine,” Patty says, and then he puts the head back on the body. “And it’s a pretty easy fix.” 

“But—” Mitch sighs, frustrated. “Please?” 

“Mitch, you’re excelling here,” Patty says. “Whatever you’re going through, don’t let it ruin that for you.” 

“I hate how much sense that makes,” Mitch says. “Have you ever considered becoming a life coach?” 

“A what?”

“Never mind,” Mitch says, waving him off. “Alright, well, if you won’t fire me, I guess I should go back to work.” 

“And I’m sure it will be good work,” Patty says. “And Mitchy—whatever else is happening? I’m sure that’ll work out too.”

Mitch sighs. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” 

“Well, I’m not you, so I can afford to be optimistic,” Patty says. 

“You’re the man,” Mitch says truthfully, then offers him a fist bump before leaving the office and returning to his desk. 

He briefly considers doing bad work purposely in some attempt to get fired, but decides against it, because the people he’s working with deserve better, and anyway, he wants to have something in his life he can take pride in. 

***

Auston’s waiting by the elevator when Mitch leaves work, which Mitch thinks is pretty unfortunate, considering he’s leaving a whole hour late to avoid this exact outcome, so they’re the only two people in this office building. It’d be nice if it were possible to coordinate mutual avoidance.

Except when Mitch walks past him, fully intending to use the stairs again, Auston says, “Mitch, hey.” 

Which means they’re doing this, and Mitch’s heart starts beating even faster as he turns around. 

“Hi,” Mitch says, faux-casual. 

“Why are you here so late?” 

“Oh, you know,” Mitch says. “Just—work things.” 

“Alright,” Auston says, frowning. “I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“Thanks,” Mitch says, his polite smile faltering. “That’s nice of you.” 

“Mitch, come on,” Auston says. “I just—I want to talk about it.” 

Mitch breaks, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a breath. “Listen, dude, I’m sorry—”

“But that’s the thing, it’s—you shouldn’t be sorry.” 

“It’s okay, I thought something was happening, I tried something out, and it wasn’t the outcome I was hoping for.” 

“But it should’ve been,” Auston says. “I just—listen, I’m a mess, okay? I just—do you know I’m a mess? Because I am.” 

“You saw me trying to sweep up dirt with a hockey stick, once,” Mitch says. “I’m not gonna judge you for being a mess.” 

“My entire life is the emotional equivalent of sweeping up dirt with a hockey stick,” Auston says. “Seriously, I’m just really bad at all of this, and I just—I wanted to tell you some stuff.” 

Mitch takes a deep breath, then nods. “Alright,” he says. “Tell me, then.”

“Okay, so,” Auston says. “I suggested they put you in advertising.”

Mitch frowns. “What?” 

“I—listen, you have to understand, I’ve been hung up on you for an embarrassingly long time, and I just—it was right across the hall, so I told Patty that he should ask them to take you on, if whatever department you were in didn’t work out.”

“You—huh?” 

“I know, it’s weird, and excessive, and creepy, but I figured if it was a bad match, they could move you again—not that that’s any excuse—and it was mostly because I thought you’d be good in it—”

“But why would you even need to do that?” Mitch says. “We’re friends.” 

“I know, but I’m—you’re really nice to everyone, and I just have my hangups, I guess, where I’m not sure if people are actually being nice to me because they like me, or if they’re just being nice because it’s polite.” 

“So you’re saying you didn’t actually know if we were friends?” Mitch says. 

“No,” Auston says. “No, I’m saying I—every time I tried to tell myself that you could be into me, or that we were close, there was just something in my brain telling me that there was no way you were acting the way you were because it was me. And everyone likes you, and you’re good with people, and that’s just intimidating.” 

“What does that have to do with you not kissing me back?” 

“It’s—I don’t know. Nothing, maybe? I just panicked, because I get in my head about these things, and just—I’m trying to be upfront.” 

“Upfront,” Mitch echoes. 

“Yeah,” Auston says. “When we were out to lunch, you said that things tend to work out when people are upfront. And I’m trying to say—just. I fucked up, because I’m, like, pathetically into you, and I know I didn’t really give off that impression yesterday, so I’m correcting that.”

“So I wasn’t reading things wrong,” Mitch says, and he feels a sense of vindication, for a second, but then it turns into overwhelming joy, because— 

Like, yeah. Auston’s into him. 

“No, you weren’t reading it wrong.” Auston says. “I was just—caught off-guard, it was like—unreal, y’know?”        

Auston’s  _ into him.  _

It’s not the easiest thought to wrap his head around, but he thinks he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

“Sorry,” Auston says. “I don’t want to, like, scare you off with my weird feelings.” 

“Dude,” Mitch says. “Your feelings aren’t weird.” 

“It’s not—like, I’m not saying—” 

“You just have a thing for me,” Mitch says. “It’s really not any more than that.” 

“It’s just—it feels like more.” 

“Some feelings are stronger than others,” Mitch says. “Like, sometimes you just like someone, but sometimes it’s the kind of thing where—like, you wanna spend every second with them? Enough that two car rides a day together isn’t enough?” 

“Something like that,” Auston says, and Mitch takes a step toward him. 

“And you think, half the time, that you know them so well, but you also keep learning new things about them?”

“And they keep changing,” Auston says, “but you’re still kind of obsessed with every new version of them.” 

“And it’s like—” Mitch grabs Auston’s hand, and he can’t tell which of them is sweating and which of them is kind of shaking, but they’re probably both doing a little bit of each. “You don’t know when you started to think of them as your best friend, but it feels like you’ve been friends—like, really close friends—for a lot longer than a couple of months.” 

“Yeah, it’s like that,” Auston says. 

“Those feelings are normal,” Mitch says. 

“How normal?” 

“Incredibly normal.” 

“Normal enough that two interns at the same insurance company would both have them?” 

“Yeah,” Mitch says, grinning, probably kind of dumb. “That’s definitely a possibility.” 

Auston squeezes Mitch’s hand. “Is it dumb that I really loved hearing you call me your best friend?” 

“No,” Mitch says, laughing a little. “And listen, I do have a bunch of friends, but you matter, to me. A lot. And I was really freaked out when I thought I’d ruined that—” 

“I’m sorry,” Auston says. “You didn’t.” 

“I know,” Mitch says, “but just in case, I’m gonna ask you before I kiss you this time.” 

“Is that you asking?” 

“Yes,” Mitch says, and he looks up at Auston, whose eyes are laser focused on him. 

“Then, yes,” Auston says, but before Mitch can move, Auston is leaning down, tugging Mitch in closer, and pressing their lips together. 

Mitch, to his credit, kisses him back pretty much immediately. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Bonus Content:**  
>  -plot twist i don't know a goddamn thing about insurance.  
> -i too would love to be william nylander's life coach   
> -mitch and auston go over to willy's to watch "rent" with him and zach and it's an attempt to get them to get their shit together, but it backfires because they all just end up crying, because rent.   
> -zach and willy eventually work their shit out when auston goes to help with a computer issue and sees a lot of research about jewish weddings in his search history ("it's because his brother is getting married okay" "sure")   
> -in the time between this random internship ending and classes starting, mitch and auston go to many jays games, because it's a nice thing to do at the end of summer, when everything feels slow and relaxed. eventually auston admits that he's "kind of" a jays fan, much to mitch's delight.   
> -patty was gonna offer to bring mitch into the advertising department already, but auston didn't know that. he really tried to subtly float the idea but he was, in fact, not at all subtle. 
> 
> I'm lottswrites on tumblr and lottslottslotts on twitter!


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